Married to the Devil

Chapter Three

His hand moved past my face and reached for his phone on the bedside table.

I stayed still with my eyes closed. My heart was beating so fast that I could hear the thumping in my chest. Then I slowly opened my eyes to see what the delay was. He was already looking at his phone screen, completely unbothered. It was another level of embarrassment. I hoped that he didn’t see me because my face was already warm.

I turned to my side and stared at the wall, hoping that the ground would open and swallow me. He was just reaching for his phone, and I had been lying there holding my breath like a fool.

I cleared my throat and pulled the blanket closer. I thought of what could get rid of that awkwardness, then I said, “The interview was good.”

He looked up. His expression changed so quickly that I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

“You watched it?”

“Everyone watched it.” I tucked myself in. “You said nice things too.”

He held my gaze for exactly three seconds. Then he looked back at his phone.

"Go to bed, Quinn."

I opened my mouth and closed it. I was disappointed, but I was still happy because this felt like a real conversation in over 8 months.

“Goodnight,” I said.

I was about to close my eyes to welcome in some sleep when he spoke to me again. “My management wants us to attend the Stellar Awards together this weekend.”

I turned in his direction slowly, but he wasn't looking at me. “Together?” I asked. “As a couple?”

“That's what we are,” he replied.

I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest. He had never shown me to the public. Or… is that why he said nice things about me? Maybe it's because he needs to make an impression of a happily married life. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.

He finally looked at me. “On Saturday,” he said. “... by 5 pm, my stylist will pick you up to get you ready.”

I fixed my gaze on him. “I thought I had to be a secret from everyone?”

He moved his gaze from mine back to his iPad. “You don’t have to be anymore”.

I couldn’t contain my emotions. I didn’t know how I could feel or how I was feeling, but I knew that it wasn’t exactly joy. “What if I don’t want to come with you?”

He didn’t answer me. He just kept on reading his script. Now I felt anger boil within me, but I knew that I would be the only one to suffer from it. “I’m not going,” I sulked as I turned to the other side of the bed.

He could have at least said something better, like ‘Will you come with me,’ or ‘I’d like you to be there.’ But no, he didn’t. He just ordered me like I was one of his staff.

After a while, he stood up from the bed and went out, and never returned to the bedroom. By the next morning, I woke up to an empty room like always. I figured out that he slept in his other room. I don't know why I expected anything different. I sighed deeply as I thought of the conversation from last night.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face when I saw his clothes from last night folded loosely over the edge of the bathtub. He could have at least tidied up. I picked up the shirt and trousers to put them in the laundry basket when something slipped out of the pocket and fell to the floor. I bent down and picked it up. It was a crisp white envelope, already opened but lightly resealed.

Curiously, I pulled it open. Inside were two tickets to Maui, Hawaii.

I was about to check the date and the time on the ticket when he knocked on the bathroom door, “I’m coming in…”, he said.

I rushed quickly to put the ticket back into the envelope and back to the pocket. He entered and saw me scuffling with his clothes. I was nervous, but I tried to keep calm. “I was ehm… I wanted to–”

He interrupted me, "I need to use the bathroom. Aren’t you done?”

“Yes–yes, I am done”

“Then what are you waiting for?” he said as he moved to pick up his toothbrush.

“Oh yes,” I rushed out. But I still couldn’t understand what those tickets were for. I sat in front of the dressing mirror thinking about it.

In no time, he came out of the bathroom and finished preparing for work. I wanted to ask him about it, but it didn't seem like it was my business. As he was about to leave, he looked at me, who was already staring at him. “I’ll be going on a business trip with a colleague tomorrow. I’ll be back on Saturday for the awards.” He moved out through the front door.

I paused for a while. Was the ticket for his colleague? Or am I just overthinking it?

I rushed to the toilet to check the departure date on the ticket in his clothes, but the ticket was already gone.